I've Got A Secret
by LightenUpYaFreak
Summary: One-Shot: My take on how Beetlejuice and Lydia should have met and what he thinks about her...Rated T just because it's Beej.


I've Got A Secret

(A/N: This is basically my take on how the two should have met and what Beetlejuice thinks about Lydia)

Disclaimer: I do not own Beeltejuice or Lydia...if I did, I probably wouldn't be writing fan fictions about them

He remembers when the mirror showed up at his place. He had walked through the door, sat down in his favorite chair to glare at his favorite spot on the decaying wall when he found himself staring back at his own relection. That brought out a shit-load of questions: What was a mirror doing on his wall? How the hell could he see himself in the mirror? The dead don't have reflections, which is why the dead don't have mirrors. So, why was there a mirror on his wall?

He remembers looking through it the first time, the way his mind had wandered and he suddenly found himself staring into a girl's room. He was thinking about the mirror and why the dead don't need them in the first place, which led to him thinking about women, which led him to the girls' room. Her room was dark for someone her age, he had thought. Too much black for her parents apparently, but it was perfect for her and just fine for him. He remembers thinking at first that this girl had been born to be a goth. Some have that certain feature. They just don't look good in anything except for black.

The music coming from the farthest, darkest corner of her room was a slow pulsing beat, morbid keyboards, and a pretty female voice. The voices over the music had sounded angry, maybe impatient. He remembers considering trying to stop spying on whoever it was that was in this room, thinking to himself why he was even doing this in the first place, when SHE walked across his line of vision.

She was short for someone her age (however big or small of a number, he hadn't known), with long waves of ink black hair, dark chocolate eyes and skin almost as pale as his...minus the mold. She was dressed in a black dress-long sleeves, mid-thigh length skirt, square neck line-black elbow high gloves and knee high boots. Everything about this girl was black and the almost white of her pale skin.

He had smiled. THIS was why he was still spying in on the room. THIS was why he had the sudden urge to refuse to look away from the magic mirror.

**I've got a secret**

**I've been watching you**

**I know you're damaged**

**But I still want you**

**You're analog trash**

**When life is digital**

**But I prefer you**

**I think you're beautiful**

To this day, even he doesn't know why he watches her. It's become a daily routine now. Come home from whatever pointless errand he had to run, grab a snack and sit down in front of his mirror. She doesn't know about it, he's pretty sure. And even if she did, then she hasn't even acknowledged it.

By now, he knows almost all of her strange little hobbies, all of her pet-peeves. He knows what she likes, what she dislikes. He's seen her cry, seen her jump for joy, seen her tear her room apart in anger. He knows almost everything about her...except her name.

He was a stubborn man, even if he wasn't really man anymore. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it. Those two combined made him a dangerous, if not annoying, poltergeist in the Neitherworld. He had almost unlimited power, a quick temper and a reputation. Add to mix, stir and stand back. Warning: Has been known to cause multiple homicides, craziness and loss of reality. If suffering from irritability, pains, bleeding and or loss of limbs, do not consult a doctor for this is normal.

He snickered.

His eyes turned back to the girl on the bed out of habit. She was sitting with one leg pulled up to her chest, the other swinging off the edge of the bed. She had her sketchbook on her lap, pencil in hand and an annoyed expression on her face. He smirked. He knew that look, which disturbed him a little. She didn't know what to draw.

That's obviously not what disturbed him. He couldn't care less about the girl's drawing. What disturbed him was what he KNEW that look. He'd seen it hundereds of times before. This girl, this young goth woman, this BREATHER had become an obsession of his.

He shook his head angrily. What did he care? So the girl didn't have anything to draw...big dea-

What if he gave her something to draw about?

**Pull back realign**

**We are flawed by design**

**Unplug just for fun**

**Stop before we hurt someone**

**Standard uniform**

**Corporate life has gone too far**

**Excess commodity**

**I want you just for me**

He'd have to pretend that he was just now happening across her. Could he do that? Yes, yes he could. He knew what frightened her, what pissed her off, what made her laugh. She wasn't like other breathers. She laughed in the face of death and morbidity, and the only thing she seemed to be scared of was the color pink.

But what would he say to get her attention? He scowled at himself. It wasn't a big deal. It's not like he was asking her to marry him (A/N: I made a funny!).

"Hey babes..." He said suddenly, flashing her one of his most crooked grins when she stared up at him with her wide dark chocolate eyes.

"Wh-who're you?" She whispered. Her pencil fell from her hand and she lurched for it before it hit the ground. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I uh, can't tell ya that."

"Whaddya mean?" She asked. She set her sketchbook down on her black bedspread, her pencil ontop of it, and took a few slow and hesitant steps toward him. He stiffled a perverted chuckle when the skirt of her dress fluttered around her thin, pale legs.

"I can't tell you my name." He said as if it were the simplist thing in the world.

She causiously sat on her knees before her mirror, somehow staying face to face with him. "That's horrible."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is it?"

"I would think so. Not knowing who you are."

"What?" Was this girl crazy? Wasn't she supposed to be smart? "Oh! No, I know who I am...I just can't tell you my name. That's for you to find out."

"Why can't you tell me your name?"

"That's the way it is. Why do you wanna know my name so much?"

"Focusing on the strange fact that you can't say your own name is a lot easier than trying to comprehend the fact that you're in my mirror and somehow talking to me."

"There are quite a few easy explanations to that actually." He grinned crookedly.

"Yeah? Like what? I'm skitzo? You're a magician? A stalker?" She laughed.

He winced at that last part. Thankfullly, she didn't notice.

**This little secret**

**Gives me something to do**

**My new obsession**

**To be like you**

**You're analog trash**

**When life is digital**

**But I prefer this**

**unreplicatable**

"What's your name?" He asked suddenly. She looked at him, surprised. "What?"

"You show up in my mirror and don't know who I am? That's a little strange." She paused, staring at him for a moment. "I'm Lydia."

"Lydia?" He scoffed. She frowned.

"What's wrong with my name!?"

"N-nothing..." He replied hastily. "Nothing...it's just...nevermind."

**Pull back realign**

**We are flawed by design**

**Unplug just for fun**

**Stop before we hurt someone**

**Standard uniform**

**Corporate life has gone too far**

**Excess commodity**

**I want you just for me**

His eyes strayed to her rising and falling chest, down to her tiny/petite waist, down to her small and pale legs, then back up to her face.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"16. Why?"

"Curious."

"How old are you?" She asked.

"Why?"

"Curious."

He chuckled, his gravely laugh startling her a little.

"600."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I was uh, being serious."

"So was I."

"So what, are you dead?"

"Kind of. I'm a poltergeist."

"A ghost?" She asked, her lips twitching upwards and her eyebrows shooting up even farther.

"No. A poltergeist. There's a difference."

"Yeah, I suppose. Adam and-oops."

"Huh?"

"Well who're you gonna tell that I know?" She shrugged. "My god-parents are dead...ghosts. They're pretty cool. A little over-protective I guess. But then again, they know what comes after the grave."

**Come on, it's not what you think**

**Come on, just come away with me**

**Come on, there's so much more to this**

**Come on, that life you will not miss**

"Is there a way that you could like sign out your name to me or something?" She asked.

"Hmm...turn around." He grinned.

She did as she was told and shrieked when a beetle twice her size waved at her.

"BEETLE!" She screamed. She turned back to him, a look of shock but not fear on her face.

"Hush kid! Your parents'll hear ya!"

"They-they're not home. How'd you do that!?" She was breathless, trying to regain the breath lost by her scream. He enjoyed the sight of her small breasts rising and falling with uneven gasps before shaking his head and adjusting his stance uncomfortably.

"Ghost with the Most babes."

"I thought you weren't a ghost?"

"Whatever. So you've got the first half of my name."

A orange juice container appeared before her in mid air and shook gently back and forth.

"Orange? Orange juice?"

He waved his arms frantically at her.

"Juice?" She giggled. "Beetle and Juice. Your name's Beetlejuice?"

"What now?" He asked, leaning closer to the mirror. Inside, he was laughing hysterically.

"Beetlejuice is your name?" She asked again.

He nodded. "Yup. You got a problem with it?"

"Of course not...maybe."

She stood, walking over to her desk to grab a chair to sit on. Still on the other side of the room, she tried out his name again, whispering so he couldn't hear her.

"Beetlejuice..."

Just because he couldn't hear her, doesn't mean he couldn't feel her. He rose from his crouched position, and stepped slowly from the mirror. He straightened his back and turned to the side and then back again, cracking it. She heard the noise and turned. She gasped and stumbled backwards.

"H-how'd you do that?" She breathed, holding a small hand to her pale chest. Again, no fear in her voice, just wonder.

"Ya said my name," He grinned. "Three times."

**Pull back realign**

**We are flawed by design**

**Unplug just for fun**

**Stop before we hurt someone**

"So, what do you Breathers do for fun?" He asked.

"Breathers?" She asked.

He sighed comically and she stiffled a giggle. "Looks like we've got a lot to go over." He said and plopped down on her bed.

Beetlejuice had never been one for conversation or history lessons. But he figured that he was with HER so it shouldn't be that bad. If she was going to be his, then she might as well know everything there is to know about him and others like him.

He grinned. He liked the sound of that.

_If she was going to be his..._

**Standard uniform**

**Corporate life has gone too far**

**Excess commodity**

**I want you just for me**

**-End-**


End file.
